


The Immortal Heart

by Pinkwebby



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anders Needs a Hug, Death and Reincarnation, Immortal!Anders, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-19 10:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkwebby/pseuds/Pinkwebby
Summary: Anders, someone who lives forever, falls in love with Hawke. Human life is fleeting though, and Anders discovers that the hard way.





	1. Spencer Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! This idea has been swirling in my head for a while, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Tags will be updated as the story progresses!

### 

Chapter One:

“You look quite lonely, need someone to talk too?” Anders had just walked into the nearest bar, the weight of his never-ending life had come down on him after another one of his closest friends died. He had sat down at the counter and put his face in his hands, trying to hold back the tears threatening to flow. The bartender gave him some ale without even asking, but Anders dared not touch it.

The gruff voice cut through the bar chatter like a knife, and Anders’ head jerked up like he’d been hit. His eyes took in the very large form of a man leaning against the counter, his cerulean eyes sparkling. Messy mahogany brown hair swept across his forehead and he had a very distinctly shaped beard.

“I’m sorry?” Anders questioned, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes had to be red and puffy, and he could feel the tears still fresh on his face.

The man didn’t hesitate to sit beside Anders, the cocky grin still on his quite handsome features. Anders quickly shook his head and absent-mindedly looked at the ale in front of him. 

“I said you look lonely, thought you wouldn’t mind if I sat down next to ya for a pint,” The man said, bumping his shoulder against Anders’ with a playful grin directed towards him.

When Anders didn’t respond, the man ordered his drink and yawned, “I’m Spencer Hawke, by the way,” He didn’t make a move to shake hands, to much of Anders relief.

“Spencer? That’s quite a peculiar name,” Anders speculated, turning his gaze ever-so-slightly towards Spencer.

“But it got you to actually speak to me, didn’t it?” Hawke smiled, picking up his pint and downing it happily.

Anders couldn’t help but let out a small smile at those words, shaking his head and returning to staring at his full pint of ale. Hawke stretched and ordered another drink, “Do you have a name as well, or should I just call you, ‘guy I met at that one tavern’?”

Anders snorted, “It’s Anders,” He told him, placing one of his shaky hands on his mug of ale and taking a long gulp.

“No last name? That’s peculiar,” He threw Anders’ words back at him, raising his eyebrows and grinning widely.

“If I knew it, I lost it long ago,” Anders said suddenly, heaving a long sigh. All of his awful feelings from before came rushing back to him and he felt the urge to sob again. He swallowed hard.

Hawke placed a large hand on Anders’ slender shoulder, sending heat waves through Anders’ body, “Are you alright? You look upset.”

“You don’t have to comfort me, I’m a stranger that you barely know,” Anders hissed, getting annoyed at this man’s persistence.

“But that’s why I sat down, because I want to know you better.”

Anders looked up sharply and caught a crooked grin on Spencer’s face that made his heart flutter. 

And that’s when Anders spiraled into the abyss.

Their first date was a secret, it always had to be a secret. Though homosexuality wasn’t taboo in Europe when Anders lived there, it was in the colonies. He didn’t want to cause himself nor Hawke trouble, but he couldn’t help it. 

Anders was invited to Hawke’s house, which was a tudor, to Anders’ amazement. He wasn’t used to the rich, the house was beautiful to say the least. 

“My mother was Lady Amell, we moved over here to escape her parents. But, they felt her a big sum of money when they died, so she had this house built,” Hawke fondly touched the oak panel on the wall.

“What about your father?” Anders questioned, curious about his parents.

Hawke’s eyes darkened, and he turned away from Anders for a moment, his fist clenched, “A dirty, cowardly mage,” He spat.

Anders, taken aback, stood there for a moment, looking at Spencer’s trembling back. After a moment, Anders tentatively stepped up to Hawke’s larger body and wrapped his arms around his back, pressing the side of his face in between Hawke’s shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. Guess my curiosity got the better of me,” Anders murmured.

They had their first kiss right there. Hawke spun around with inhuman speed, backing up Anders against the wooden walls. He kissed him fiercely, hands pressed on either side of Anders so there was no way to escape. It took Anders a second to wrap his arms around tightly around Hawke’s neck, dragging him closer to him. His lips tasted smoky, like when a fire burns through an oak tree.

“Brother, are you here?” A nearby voice had Anders pushing back Hawke with a lot of force, almost knocking him off his feet. Anders stared at him with wide eyes, his cheeks burning bright red and his breath ragged. Hawke cleared his throat, his face red, and turned to a girl that looked similar to him.

“Sorry, I was showing my friend Anders around. Did you need something?” He questioned the younger girl with a grin.

Anders knew where this relationship would end, all it took was a brain to see he wouldn’t get to keep Hawke forever. He was immortal, cursed with everlasting youth. And Spencer, well, he aged just like any other human being. It was only a matter of time before something awful happened or Hawke’s age slipped away like sand in an hourglass.

But he couldn’t put a stop to their relationship, no matter the cost. He loved him, Maker he loved him so much. It was that winter, half a year after they’d been dating, that Hawke discovered he was mage.

Hawke had invited him over to the house, and Anders sloshed through the Kirkwall snow over to Hawke’s house. Inside was suspiciously quiet, usually you could hear Bethany laughing or Carver arguing with her. 

“Anders, I’m glad you could make it,” Hawke approached him as he was taking off his scarf, and kissed him passionately.

Anders instantly pressed his hand to his chest and pushed him back slightly, “What are you doing?”

“Bethany and Carver went to the neighbor’s house for the night, something about friends,” He murmured, before going in for another heated kiss.

Anders squeezed his eyes shut, his hands reaching forward to grip onto the front of Hawke’s tunic. He could feel Spencer’s heated hands trail up his sides and tangle in his golden locks. Anders gasped into Hawke’s mouth, before pulling away.

“Can you let me in further into the house before you assault me with kisses,” He breathed, smoothing his hair back.

“Sorry,” Hawke’s husky voice murmured, and his warm body disappeared from Anders’ front. It was quite dark in the foyer of the Hawke house, and Anders stumbled over the rug as he came inside farther.

"I have a fire in the other room, if you would like to join me,” Hawke said, taking Anders’ hand softly.

As soon as they were in the separate room and the door was closed, Hawke was on him. Long, dizzying kisses were exchange, Hawke’s tongue dragging down Anders’ neck and leaving love bites across his pale skin. The fire danced across their skin as clothes were removed. Anders was lowered onto the hard couch. Hawke stared down at Anders with an expression that he could only describe as desire.

Hands roamed across Anders’ skin, sending electric shocks throughout his body. There was a burst of pain, and then he was left bare. Scandalous moans escaped Anders’ lips, covering his eyes with his arm as Hawke ravaged him. He arched his back, gasping with pleasure. Anders could hear his own panting mixed with Spencer’s, and it was…well, embarrassing.

“Open your eyes,” Hawke commanded with his deep voice, bringing Anders out of his passionate daze momentarily. Anders hesitantly removed his arm from his eyes and opened them, another moan ripping from his throat. Hawke stared down at him with dark, smoldering eyes. It felt like Anders’ whole body was on fire. He turned his gaze away, but couldn’t keep his eyes opened much longer as another wave of pleasure rolled over his body. He blindly reached up and dug his nails into Spencer’s back, letting the ecstasy take him over.

Afterwards, Anders sat on the couch, wrapped up in the large blanket that Hawke had given him. He was still naked, not wanting to get dressed. His body was beginning to show his fatigue, he felt very exhausted and his hips were starting to ache.

“Anders,” Hawke came in and immediately called him. Anders looked up from the fireplace, and for some reason, he could see hurt in Spencer’s eyes. He was about to get up, but Hawke sat down, his back to him. In the dying fire light, Anders could make out red hand-prints on Hawke’s shoulder blades, the skin getting blisters like he had a sunburn.

Anders let out a small gasp as he realized what had happened. In his sex fueled daze, he had used magic, and had burned Hawke. It wasn’t severe, but it was enough to leave a bitter taste in Anders’ mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Was all Anders could muster.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a mage?” Hawke questioned, his back still turned to Anders.

“When we had our first date, you told me about your father, and you sounded so angry about him being a mage. I didn’t want to ruin anything, love. I love you,” He explained desperately, his voice cracking.  
Suddenly, Hawke was laughing, making Anders recoil like he’d been slapped. Spencer turned around and took both of Anders’ hands, “Anders, love, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. And that would never change how I feel about you. I don’t hate my father because he was a mage. There are other…reasons,” He told him, kissing his lover’s knuckles softly.

Anders stared at him, surprised at his words, “You don’t…care that I’m a mage?”

“Why would I? I’m a mage too, Anders,” Hawke released his hands and snapped his fingers, a lick of orange fire appearing on his fingers, dancing wildly before disappearing.

“And you never told _me_?!” Anders cried out, slapping Hawke’s bare shoulder with a look of mock outrage.

“Ouch, I’m sorry! You know why you don’t tell people these things. The witch trials are becoming more wide-spread. I wasn’t sure if I could really trust you,” Hawke murmured the last part, his face leaning in until it was inches apart from Anders’.

“And now?”

“I trust my everything to you,” Hawke said, before he pressed a solid kiss to Anders' lips.

It was that next summer that Spencer Hawke was killed. Anders could remember the day so clearly, he was over at Spencer’s house when it happened. There was loud banging at the door, and Anders went downstairs to answer it at Spencer’s request.

Outside the door was a flustered young woman, an elf with tattoos on her face. Anders eyed her, “How may I help you?”

“Is Spencer here? Oh, something terrible as happened!” She cried out.

“Spencer!” Anders called Hawke once she had explained the situation to him, “Spencer, love, it’s your sister.”

Hawke, Anders, and the girl named Merrill ran down to the Gallows. Anders could see that Hawke was livid and extremely worried for his sister. Apparently, a man tried to assault Merrill while she was walking through the alienage with Bethany. And Bethany shot him with a fireball to defend her. She was captured by templars immediately.

“It’s ok, love. We’re going to rescue her,” Anders murmured to him.

Hawke stopped and grabbed both of Anders’ arms, stopping him as well. Merrill noticed them stop, but she kept going. 

“Anders, whatever happens after this, I don’t want you to interfere,” He told him, his usual deep voice sounding off-putting to Anders.

“What are you going to do?” He questioned, reaching out and gripping his arms tightly, as if it could stop him.

“I can’t let my sister die to the hands of a templar. I will rescue her no matter the cost. I owe my father that much,” He told him softly, letting out of his signature crooked grins that Anders had come to love.

“No, I won’t let you do it alone. Let me help, you know I can,” He replied, his voice cracking.

“I don’t want you to die, I love you Anders,” Hawke didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was watching before he placed a heavy kiss on Anders’ lips, enveloping him in his arms.

“I love you too, but you can’t stop me from helping,” Anders whispered, pulling away and clenching his fists.

“Please, don’t make me choose. I want to be able to protect you and Bethany. Please, don’t interfere, no matter what happens,” Hawke pleaded, his voice desperate.

Anders wanted to scream at him that he was immortal, that he would rather die with Spencer right then and there than watching the life bleed from his eyes while he lived on. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t want another heart break.

“Let’s hurry, we’ve wasted enough time,” Hawke said dismissively, taking Anders’ hand in his and taking him along to the gallows. Once there, Anders realized there was something going on. A small crowd was gathered, and Anders spotted Bethany up by the noose.

Anders was going to follow Hawke all the way up to the platform, climb up those stairs by Bethany and help him, but Spencer let go of his hand as he was walking through the crowd. That’s when Anders knew that there was nothing he could. Spencer didn’t want him to help in fear that he would die. Hawke was accepting that he was going to die. But Anders didn’t want too. He couldn’t accept it!

But he stood by silently while Hawke used force magic to propel the guards away from the stairs, taking them two at a time. He got up there and pulled out a small dagger from his boot, cutting the ropes from Bethany’s wrist. She turned and hugged him tightly, and Anders saw Hawke whisper something to her.

More guards began to poor out of the gallows, and the crowd began to disperse, scared of the templars as much as the mages were. Anders stood there though, watching Spencer like his life depended on it.

Guards surrounded Hawke and Bethany, but there was a glint in Spencer’s eye. In one swift movement, he brought his fist to the ground. The force of the magic sent all the templars flying off the platform. Spencer began pushing Bethany down the stairs, following her closely behind. They scurried out of the gallows, to where Merrill was at the entrance. Anders ran after them.

“Take her away from here. Varric can smuggle her out, you just need to get to him. I’ll distract the guards here as long as possible. Just don’t do anything stupid, please,” Spencer told Merrill and Bethany, hugging his sister tightly and kissing her forehead.

They both nodded, Bethany hesitant to leave, but being urged on by a running Merrill, they disappeared around a corner.

“What about me?” Anders croaked, tears freely flowing down his face.

“Get out of here, I don’t want you to see what they do to me,” Hawke said, pressing his hand to Anders’ cheek and pecking his lips with a wistful smile.

“No, please. Don’t do it. You’ve probably bought Bethany enough time with your amazingly powerful force magic. Every guard was knocked out within radius,” Anders said, pulling on his arm.

“I can’t take that risk. She’s my sister, Anders. She’s the only family besides Carver I have left. And you,” He murmured, pressing his forehead against his lover’s.

“Don’t leave me, please,” Anders pleaded, placing both his hands on Hawke’s face, “Let me help, let me fight. Let me do _something_ to save you!”

“No, I will not risk your life. Do as I say, Anders. No more arguing,” He placed a kiss on both his eyelids, on his nose, his lips, and lastly his forehead. His breath was hot on his face, “I love you.”

He pushed Anders away abruptly, turning back to the gallows where guards were forming up again. Anders wanted to reach out, but he stopped short as Hawke looked back at him with his crooked smile.

“I love you too,” Anders whispered against the harsh sea wind, before he turned and ran.

Anders went under the radar after that, not keeping up communications with anyone for very long. Though when he did, he always inquired about the one mage that went rogue to save a girl on death row. He always got the same answer, that he put up a good fight, but the templars put a blade through him when he became strained. They deemed him too dangerous to be arrested. ‘A kill on sight’, was what they called it.

It hurt Anders deeply, he lived in solitude for a very long time, and he only made one promise to himself.

That he was never going to fall in love again.


	2. Garr Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Hawke belongs to GreenSphynx! I've gotten a lot of Hawkes, and I can't wait to write for all of them! There's still time to sumbit a Hawke as well!

### 

Chapter Two:

The year was 1819, Anders had left his secluded life in America to head back to England. America was still recovering from the Revolutionary War, and Anders was happy to leave the country before something else awful happened to the fledgling country.  
He got on the first boat he could and it felt amazing just to feel the salty breeze in his hair. Anders heard there was some kind of new boat being tested in the rivers. Somehow, it was steam powered. He couldn’t really imagine how that would work, but he wasn’t an inventor.

The journey to England took two months, and since Anders paid his way onto a merchant ship, there was plenty of space and few people got sick. Secretly, Anders envied someone who could get sick, even if it was horrible. An immortal couldn’t get sick, it wasn’t possible.

The smell of the salty sea air always brought back awful memories, but he forced them down. As England appeared over the horizon, Anders gripped the ship’s railing with a death grip. He would never admit this to anyone, but he could feel the cold grip of loneliness grasping at him. He missed Spencer, he ached to have him back in his arms just one more time. Anders curled a piece of stray hair behind his ear and quickly wiped the tears off his face. Life wasn’t fair, Anders knew that.

“Ay, sir, we’re docking now. We’ll need you off the ship immediately, we got customers coming to get their stuff,” The captain called from the wheel.

“Yes captain,” Anders turned his face towards the man and nodded.

Once they were docked, Anders was the first off, making his way down the dock and onto dry land. It felt amazing not to be swaying all the time on a ship, but now he had to figure out what he was doing. He had a cottage on the English coast, but he wondered if it was torn down.

As he was thinking that, someone flew past him, almost knocking him off his feet. He whipped his head around to see a man ducking his head, carrying something close to his chest. A suspicious feeling washed over Anders, but he didn’t make a move to stop the man.

That’s when someone really knocked into him. Anders stumbled back, shaking his head as he caught sight of midnight black hair. His heart raced as the man glared at him only for a moment, “Watch where you’re going,” He snapped, running after the man.

Anders stood there in shock, his whole body ached. That face…it couldn’t be. That man looked exactly like Spencer. Anders shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning on his heels and dashing after the man.

“Wait!” He called after the man, who hadn’t gotten far, “Spencer!” He croaked. He was still chasing the other man, but he was gaining on him. As the man tried to round a corner, the Spencer look-alike snarled and literally pushed the man to the ground.

Anders stopped short, staring at both men. The man running went sprawling across the dirt, landing on his stomach and letting the thing in his hand go flying. It was a book, to Anders surprise. He lunged forward and picked up the book before the man on the ground could crawl after it.

He didn’t get a chance to move though, because the Spencer look-alike pressed a black boot to the back of the man’s head, digging the toe into his scalp.

“You’ll pay for stealing from me, you fuck,” He spat, his glare moving from the man below him to Anders.

A small gasp left Anders’ mouth as he took in the man’s form. He looked exactly like Spencer, even down to his pale skin. But he had a tattoo on one of his eyes. His eyes were also a very light grey color, almost white. Anders couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He guessed no matter how hard he tried, the picture of Hawke could never escape him.

“I’ll take that book,” The man said, grounding his foot into the man one more time, before walking over to Anders.

Anders clutched the book to his chest, looking up at the man, “Have we met before? You look strikingly familiar.”

The familiar warm feeling sent a pleasurable shiver down Anders’ spine as the man stared down at him with a scowl. Anders had the feeling that this man was similar to Hawke in some ways, but he definitely was not like Spencer, who was witty and gentle.

“I think you got the wrong man, you called me Spencer. I don’t have such a weird name,” The man said, putting his hand out for Anders to give him the book.

“It’s not a weird name!” Anders snapped aggressively without thinking, his heart aching.

“Look, I don’t care who’re looking for, just gimme the book. I’m already tired of this conversation,” He growled, motioning Anders to give him the book.

“Can you tell me your name, at least?” Anders practically begged.

“If you need to know that badly, it’s Garr Hawke,” He snapped, snatching the book from Anders’ arms and turning to leave.

“Hawke? Wait, I have a few more questions!” Anders ran after him, his heart beating a hundred miles an hour.

Could it be a descendant of the Hawkes? Did Bethany or Carver have children? 

“I’m not in the mood, I just had to chase after some asshole trying to get this book,” Hawke snarled at him.

“Just indulge me for a moment, will you?” Anders said, walking beside him.

“You’re quite annoying, you know that?” Hawke told him, his eyes cold.

“I won’t stop until you answer my questions,” Anders replied in an almost teasing manner.

Garr stopped abruptly, turning to him, “Fine, meet me at Andraste’s Bosom at nightfall.”

“What a creative name,” Anders called once Hawke had started walking again.

“Well, if you can think of something better, then go by yourself,” Hawke yelled back, before disappearing into the dock crowd.

Anders, despite having a bad feeling about the rude Garr Hawke, smiled happily.

Anders spent the rest of the day going around the dock town, buying new things, even a new shirt to wear. This place was a nice tiny town. It smelled like Kirkwall, shit and despair as Varric once said.

Once nightfall approached, Anders headed over to Andraste’s Bosom, which was some sort of bar. There was a picture of Andraste with very large breasts poking out from a small shirt. Anders grimaced and headed inside. The bar was exactly how Anders pictured an English bar to look like, men getting totally drunk and fist fighting, and hitting on women. It smelled like garbage and sweat.

Garr Hawke was sitting in a corner, his legs propped up on a table, a girl laughing with him from across the table. Anders heart sunk and twisted up in some kind of bad emotion. Jealousy, perhaps?

He came over to the table, placing a hand on the table a bit forcefully as he looked at Garr. Hawke glanced up at him, a wide grin on his face, “You actually came, this place doesn’t seem like your type of bar.”

“I’ve seen worse in America,” Anders responded bluntly, seating himself next to the woman and crossing his arms.

“An American? Boy, Hawke, you sure know how to pick them,” The woman said with a snort.

“Does he sound American, dumb-ass? He probably went over there because this place is shitty,” Hawke told her, downing a glass of whiskey and wincing slightly.

“Whatever,” The woman said, kicking up her feet on the table as well and nudging him with her boot.

“No, no, no, I didn’t say you could stay. Get the hell out of here, this is a private conversation.” At first, Anders thought Garr was talking to him, and he already felt himself getting angry. But, the woman let out a large sigh and pushed out her seat, getting up.

“I’d best be careful, cutie. He’ll gobble you up,” She whispered to Anders, before she flounced off.

“You had questions for me?” Hawke questioned, his eyes piercing Anders and sending a hot feeling through his body.

“Oh, ah, yes,” Anders said with a flustered voice, “I’m just a bit curious about your family, because I’ve heard of the Hawkes before.”

Garr let out a groan, “Then you’re probably talking about my mom and my dad. My dad was an apostate and my mother was a noble who ran away with him. We lived in America for most of my life, and a hefty sum of money left by my mother’s parents gave us enough money to buy an estate owned by an older family named the Amells,” He explained.

Anders heart jumped into his throat as he listened to Garr. That was basically the same history of Spencer Hawke, more or less. Was this some kind of sick joke? Were the gods playing with his feelings because he could never die? We’re the divines spiting him?

“Do you have any siblings? What’s your mother’s name?” Anders inquired desperately.

“You’re asking a lot of questions, what’s your problem?” Hawke questioned, his eyes narrowing.

“I need to know who you are, you…look like someone I used to know,” He said, looking away from Garr’s eyes.

“Sounds like you’re talking about a lover. And here I was hoping you had no baggage,” Hawke said, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Can you just tell me if you have any siblings? Then I’ll leave you alone,” Anders responded, ignoring his comment.

“Who said I wanted you to leave me alone?” A mischievous smile came to Garr’s face, and Anders couldn’t help but think about Spencer. “But my siblings. I have two of them. Well, had. Carver died during the Civil War, and Bethany is somewhere in America, probably tending to our sick mother.”

“Their names are…Bethany and Carver?” Anders questioned, a cold shiver going up his spine.

“Yeah, why? Have we met before? Do you know my sister?” Hawke asked, leaning forward.

“No, I, it’s just that…” Anders trailed off, clasping his hands together and shaking his head furiously, “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’m so sorry for bothering you.” Anders quickly got up and made a hasty escape out of the stuffy bar.

Anders made a quick turn into an alley beside the bar and caught his breath. His thoughts raced all through his head and made him dizzy. What in Andraste’s name was going on? Garr Hawke seemed to be living the same life Spencer Hawke did. And Anders still got the same warm feeling he got when he was near Spencer as well. He couldn’t figure out why and for some reason he felt guilt. Anders clutched his face, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Hey,” He heard a voice at the beginning of the alley, but Anders didn’t listen, turning his body away from the new comer.

Suddenly, someone was in front of him, pushing him against the wall with arms on either side of him, blocking him from leaving. Anders snapped his head up to look into the eyes of Garr Hawke.

“You’re crying,” Hawke said, raising his eyebrows.

“No, I’m not,” Anders mumbled, furiously wiping at his eyes, “Why did you follow me anyways? I don’t have any money or anything like that.”

Garr took ahold of Anders’ chin and forced him to look up, “Because I didn’t want you to leave. Did I ask you to leave?” He questioned bluntly.

Anders placed his hand on top of the one holding his chin, “I can’t do this. Please let me go.”

“You’re not leaving until I figure out who you are. You come in asking all these questions, and I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before. And I hate not knowing,” Garr snapped.

“Maybe we met in another life,” Anders offered quietly.

Garr stared him for a moment, before responding, “Now you’re just being cryptic.”

“Well, I don’t know what you wan-“ Anders was silenced by a pair of lips pressing against his. Shocked, Anders instantly pressed a palm to Garr’s chest, pushing him back. “What…are you doing?”

“If I told you I wasn’t really sure, would you believe me?” Garr breathed.

Anders stared up in his eyes for a second longer, before knotting his fist in Garr’s shirt and pulling his lips back to his own. The man responded by placing a solid hand on Anders’ hip and the other on his cheek, caressing his face. After a moment, Garr pulled back, his light eyes seemed to pull Anders in.

“Come back to my place,” He ordered, his voice low and husky. It sent a pleasurable shiver down Anders’ spine.

Anders hesitated for a moment, looking down at his boots before back up at Garr’s face. He hadn’t felt this way since he was with Spencer, and guilt clawed at him as he thought about replacing Spencer. But he needed to know more about what was happening, and even though he wouldn’t have a clear head with Garr if they went to his place, Anders honestly didn’t mind.

“All right,” Anders replied softly.

Garr nodded and went to the mouth of the alley, looking back at Anders with slightly narrowed eyes, “My place isn’t too far away, but I need you to act normal. No one knows about this yet,” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally.

Anders stared at his back, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve done plenty of sneaking in my lifetime. Why would I be interested in you if I hadn’t?”

Garr gave him a sharp look, but he didn’t say anything more as Anders walked out into the street before him. Hawke took the lead immediately, always staying a couple of steps in front of Anders, as if he didn’t want to be seen with him at all. Anders could understand it, he supposed. Though most accepted homosexuality, it was usually done under the radar. Being seen with another man in the open was quite taboo. Spencer was always a bit open about their relationship, but they still had to keep it a secret. Maybe someday men could have open relationships, but Anders knew that was probably a long way off. Though, he might see it in his never-ending life span.

Garr’s home turned out to be a ship in the dock, and it was eerily silent as they boarded the ship. Hawke opened a door that Anders assumed was where the captain quarters was, and then followed him in. This was the point in time where Anders questioned if what he was doing was right. Knowing where this would probably lead, Anders realized that this might just be a fling for Garr. He might not be into men, Anders has known plenty of men and women who dip their toes into the world of homosexuality.

As soon as the door was closed, Garr lit a lantern next to a pile of pillows and blankets on what Anders assumed was some sort of bed. Gorgeous fabrics and different items from various places laid strewn across a table next to the bed.

Anders didn’t get to marvel the treasures for long as Garr pinned him against the nearest wall. Anders stiffened up momentarily, before letting himself get carried away.

Clothes were removed, but Anders didn’t get a chance to fully undress. He always left his boots for last when he undressed, since they had so many clasps to undue, but apparently, Garr was in a rush. Anders was pushed towards the bed, the heel of his boots hitting the bottom of the bed before he toppled over.

“I’m taking all of you. You belong to me now,” Hawke growled, his lips finding Anders’ again.

Lust and passion coiled in Anders mind and body, and he arched his back. He could remember the pain, but it was always worth the pleasure that rolled over his body afterwards. His lips opened, a long sinful moan surprised both of them.

Anders could feel the roll of Hawke’s hips against his skin, the sheen of sweat forming on Garr’s torso and shoulders. He was also acutely aware of the scraping of his boots against Hawke’s skin. And he concluded that he enjoyed having his boots on during sex.

Anders threw back his head, gasping in air as he clawed at the silk fabric under him. This was…definitely rougher than what he had done before, not that he particularly minded. He could feel himself losing control, the pleasure seeping into his very core.

The last thing he heard before he gave into the passion was Garr purr out, “I love you, Anders.”

The next thing Anders knew, he was woken up by something moving around beside him. He opened his eyes slightly, making out the form of Garr Hawke, who was sitting up in bed. Silky sheets pooled around his waist.

“Good morning,” Anders yawned, curling up against Hawke’s side.

“Can I ask you something?” Garr questioned, his piercing gaze moving down to Anders.

“Sure.”

“You said something about meeting in a different life. What did you mean by that?”

Anders swallowed hard, trying to make his face as neutral as possible, “It was…nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Last night, I said something. I called you by a name that sounded so familiar, and I said…I said I loved you. Do you remember?”

Anders, shaken, sat up and stared at him, knowing exactly what he was talking about, “I remember.”

“And you responded. You never told me your name last night, but I called out to you like it was second nature. And, when we were, for lack of a better word, _fucking_ , your body felt so familiar. I knew exactly where to touch to make you squirm and gasp.”

Anders bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. If he wasn’t sure before, he definitely was now. Spencer Hawke had been reincarnated into Garr Hawke. Anders didn’t know how, he didn’t know why. He needed time to think it over, figure out what this meant.

“I should probably go,” Anders muttered, standing. At some point, he had gotten his boots off and they laid in a crumpled heap on the edge of the bed.

“You can’t be serious,” Hawke stood up, putting on a pair of pants and rounding the bed to Anders. He took him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “I don’t want you to leave. Stay here with me and help me figure this out.”

“I already know what’s going on, but I don’t know if telling you is the right thing. Not until I know for sure,” Anders snapped at him.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” Garr told him flatly, releasing him so he could put on his clothes.

“You should stay away from me. You don't want all the ugliness I'm going to bring into your life,” Anders whispered, turning his back to Hawke.

“I don’t care, you don’t get to decide who I keep in my life,” Hawke said as Anders opened the door to the outside.

Anders wanted to tell himself that it was just a fling to make himself feel better, but he knew the truth. Bitterness welled up in his throat. That’s when he realized that he had fallen in love with Hawke all over again. He wanted to stay away, not deal with heartbreak all over again when Garr died.

Garr Hawke refused to stop seeing him, his passionate love for him was almost blinding to Anders. There was no way to keep Hawke at a safe distance from Anders, because he always wanted more. Anders was greedy, he couldn’t bear the thought of Hawke not being with him.

Greediness only ends in losing what you lusted for the most, Anders always learned that the hard way. It was a Saturday, two years after that fateful day they met. Anders usually went around the shops, had some tea if he got out early enough. Today was hot, a scorching day by the docks. Garr had left Anders’ side for a little way to oversee a trade that his captain, Isabella, was doing.

Anders was perusing a new pastry shop, when the man at the counter caught his eye. He was wondering if he looked familiar, when the man beckoned him over with a large grin.

“Good morning, ser. My boss has told me to give out a couple free pastries today, please, take one,” The man pushed some kind of Danish towards Anders. Anders didn’t particularly like puffy pastry, but didn’t want to seem rude.

“Thank you,” Anders mumbled, taking the food from the man and leaving the store front. As he was leaving, he spotted Gar leaning against the building with a smug look on his face as he took in Anders’ form.

“I assume the trade went smoothly?” Anders questioned nonchalantly, giving him a small grin.

“Isabela threw a dagger at the merchant. He didn’t die, but that’s what happens if you try to double cross Bela,” He told Anders, peering down at the dessert in Anders’ hands, “Is that a Danish?”

“Yes, but I don’t want it, do you?” Anders offered.

“I’m starving, so yes please,” Hawke gladly took the Danish, taking a huge bite out of it and nodding towards the docks, “Are you ready to go? Isabela finished up her trading and we have everything loaded on the ship.”

“Can we look at a couple more shops?” Anders asked, looking towards a clothing store he personally liked.

“Sure.” They went over to inspect the shop, Anders deciding to get a new tunic to wear.

When he came back out, Hawke was leaning heavily against the wall, his eyebrows furrowed. Anders peered at him, pressing a hand to his forehead, “Are you ok, Garr?”

“Yeah, sorry, got a little woozy there for a moment,” He said, grinning. Anders nodded, and they headed off to the ship. If Anders couldn’t stay with Garr forever, he could at least stay with him for as long as possible. And a ship was the perfect place to do that. Anders loved the open sea.

He focused on Hawke, who staggered sharply to the left, before straightening himself out. He cleared his throat and made eye contact with a worried Anders.

“It’s nothing, must’ve just tripped over my feet,” He told him, but his skin was gleaming with sweat.

“Maybe you should lie down when we get to the ship,” Anders said, gently placing Garr’s arm around his neck to steer him in the right direction.

He stiffened up for a moment, but made no comment about how close they were. A few moments later, Anders felt Hawke sag against his side, and Anders quickly looked over at Hawke, his fears confirmed. Hawke had passed out.

Anders let out a small gasp and quickly lowered Garr to the dirt. People around the docks gave them odd stares, but didn’t make any moves to help. Anders quickly pressed his hands to Hawke’s chest and shook him, “Garr, love, wake up!”

Hawke let out an agonizing gasp, his silver eyes flying open. He clutched at his throat, his chest heaving. He coughed, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong, Garr!” He looked around, spotting the pastry in the dirt. He snatched it up and gave it a small whiff. The smell of poison filled his nostrils and he gagged, tossing it down like it was toxic to touch.

“Don’t worry, love, love. It’s ok, I can heal you, just hold still,” Anders soothed him, sliding his hands under Garr’s tunic and pulsing his healing magic into the man he loved. 

But Anders knew that the magic wasn’t doing anything as soon as he tried. Though he was very skilled in healing magic, the poison was already heavily worked into Garr’s bloodstream. Anders’ eyes filled with tears, and not caring if anyone saw him, he let them flow.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” He sobbed, holding Hawke close to him.

“Anders,” Hawke murmured, a trembling hand reaching up and touching his face.

“Why does this have to happen to me again, I don’t want to lose you!” Anders cried out, leaning into Hawke’s touch.

“It’s ok. It’s stupid I’m dying from a pastry, kind of makes me dislike them now,” Garr rasped, his eyebrows furrowed, “But I love you, if that counts for anything, love.”

“It counts for everything! Garr, please just hold on, maybe I could get someone, anyone-“

“Anders, don’t. I’m dying, you can’t change that,” Hawke responded, looking up at him, “But still, I don’t want to fucking die.”

Anders placed a chaste kiss on Hawke’s chapped lips, before he saw the life drain from Garr’s eyes. Anders let out an awful sob that vibrated in his chest, sitting there with Hawke in his grasp.

Eventually Isabela found them, and she was outraged, demanding to know where they got the pastry that poisoned him and how could Hawke be so fucking stupid and not taste it. Anders was dragged along as Isabela confronted the man at the counter. And in the end, Isabela ended his life. Anders remembered where he saw him, it was the guy who stole the book from Isabela when he first met Garr.

She offered to let Anders sail the seas with her, give Hawke the burial at sea he wished for. He accepted a ride to America, only wanting to see Hawke’s sea funeral. Isabela said that the sea was his first love, until he met Anders. 

“This was something Hawke wanted to give you. He always had these trinkets from the unusual places we went,” She offered a simple box to Anders. On the verge of crying, Anders opened the box and pulled out a simple metal pin. It was engraved to look like a ram skull, horns and all. Anders bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood as he pinned it on his shirt.

“He was an asshole and very frustrating, but Garr was my friend. He didn’t deserve that death. I’m glad justice was served in the end,” Isabela told him.

“Thank you, Isabela.”


	3. Hayden Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is TimeSorcerer's Hawke! Go check out their tumblr! [Here!](http://timesorceror.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And I if you need reading music, I recommend this. I listened to it for most of the time I wrote. [ _Something About Us_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=em0MknB6wFo)

### 

Chapter 3: Hayden Hawke

Anders had traveled back to his home in England, not wanting to be near America for a long time. England was a safe place, somewhere that would always be familiar to him. Kirkwall, more specifically, would always be his home. In his little cottage on his big, lonely piece of land. When he entered his house, the first smell that hit him was so much like Spencer that he broke down at the door. Only able to actually get the door closed before he sunk to the floor, sobbing.

Losing both Garr and Spencer would always be too much. He questioned why he had to fall in love again, why any of the holy gods would do this to him. To bring Hawke back to him only to tear him away from Anders’ grasp in the cruelest way.

Later in the evening, when Anders couldn’t cry anymore and he felt sick, he finally got up from where he sat on the floor. Things that Spencer owned were scattered around his tiny house. Things such as clothes, belts, a pair of shoes, letters from family and friends. It was hard to even touch those things, Anders was afraid they wouldn’t smell like Spencer, that without them there, Anders would forget about his love. 

Anders gathered up what he brought him, which included a large amount of fabrics and pillows from Garr’s bed on Isabela’s ship. They had been to many ports, many exotic places, and Anders was heartbroken that he never got to go anywhere with them. At least the sea would have been a bit safer than land. Bitterly, Anders hit his fist against the wall, tears welling up his eyes again. He swallowed them down though.

He spent quite a few years in England. He didn’t travel, he liked staying in Kirkwall. He even got a small clinic set up in Darktown. There wasn’t a lot of business, since England seemed to be in a peaceful period. Anders could remember when Queen Victoria had her first daughter, how even the people in Darktown cheered as they read the newspapers.

The year was 1851, Anders had been sitting in his clinic, not much was going on besides earlier a woman went into labor on his shift. He was successfully helped deliver her beautiful child into the world. As thanks, her husband gave him some homemade bread they had to spare. Anders was now tearing it up and eating it, reading the newspaper.

As he turned the page, something caught his eye that made his stomach do a flip. He dropped the piece of bread he was eating and quickly read over the page he skipped. The title read something about a new famous artist coming up in ranks. Their name was Hayden Hawke. From what the article read, the person did amazing art work for inexpensive prices. 

That was definitely not what drew Anders’ attention though, it was the name that stuck out. Hayden Hawke. Hawke. Anders swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. There was another Hawke. This time, it was shorter than the last. Only 40 years.

Anders stood up quickly, almost knocking over his make-shift table. He steadied it and gathered up his things, closing the clinic early. He had to see him, he had to see Hawke. He needed to know if it was really him.

This could also be a good chance to get a wonderful painting of Spencer for his home. As if he didn’t have enough reminders of his love. At least he could see Spencer one more time with this.

With this in mind, he copied down the address, which surprisingly was the Amell estate. He had to choke back his surprise as he left the clinic, not even bothering to lock the door. He practically ran down the familiar path to the Amell estate. He didn’t want to look like he was in a rush, but in all honesty, he was.

Once in front of the estate, he had to stop short. The place definitely looked different. It had vines growing by the door, and the door was replaced now with dark wood instead of the light wood Spencer prided in cutting down the tree himself. They were ragged, ugly doors, but they were home at least.

Anders stepped up to the door and knocked, letting out all his breath. He itched to just open the door and walk in, but this wasn’t his lover’s house anymore. It was Hayden Hawke’s house.

The door was opened by Bethany Hawke herself. Anders stared at her with shock, clenching his fist.

“Yes, how may I help you?” She asked cheerfully.

“Oh, I’m here because I wanted to request a painting. I heard an artist lives here?” Anders questioned nervously.

“Oh yes, my sibling does them. Come in, I’ll show you to Hayden’s room,” Bethany opened the door wider, her innocent smile made Anders ache more. He hadn’t seen Bethany in over century, her reincarnation looked as radiant as the first Bethany did.

“T-thank you,” Anders voice trembled, stepping inside the house. Most of the foyer was still the same, but paintings were hung up. The stairs leading up to the second floor had been ripped out and replaced with dark, wooden stairs that went better with the paneling in the house.

“This way,” Bethany led him to a room off to the right. One Anders knew well. Memories that Anders didn’t want to remember surfaced. When they entered, Anders realized it wasn’t the same. The fireplace was still there, but the elegant rug that was on the floor was gone, replaced with more wood flooring. Anders personally wasn’t a fan, he liked carpet better.

The couch where Spencer found out Anders was a mage was gone, replaced with a lone uncomfortable chair with lion feet. In the back of the room it was a complete mess. Blank and filled canvases were littered across the floor. A couple of easels stood by another one of those chairs, along with tubes of paint used and new. Paintbrushes were spread out over a table, as well as in a wine glass filled with what could be assumed was dirty paint water.

“Hayden, you have another customer. Take care of him, he looks lonely,” Bethany gave Anders a small smile, before leaving the room.

“Um, hello?” Anders called hesitantly. 

There was some rustling, before someone came in with a stack of papyrus. He had long, wispy black hair and icy blue eyes. He looked up at Anders with a startled expression, before his face smoothed out into a warm smile that had Anders’ heart beating wildly.

“Hello there. I’m Hayden Hawke. And you are?”

“I’m Anders. Very nice to meet you, Hawke.”

“Bethany said you wanted a painting done, yes? Come a little closer and we can discuss what you want,” He sat down in the chair, which groaned under the sudden weight. 

Anders shuffled closer, his palms getting sweaty. He wanted to say something, but his mouth felt dry.

“So, do you want a portrait done of yourself or of someone else?”

“Oh, someone else definitely. I’m not portrait material,” Anders joked, wiping some mystery dirt off his tunic.

“Oh no, don’t say that! I think you’d look great in any painting!” Hayden responded with another one of those adorable smiles.

“Never mind that. I actually need to get a painting done of someone I used to know. His name was Spencer,” Anders told Hayden.

“Spencer. That sounds familiar,” Hayden tapped his chin, but didn’t make a move to explain further.

Anders was about to tell the person in front of him what Spencer looked like, but he paused.

“So, have you ever made a painting of yourself?” Anders asked casually while Hayden pulled out paper to write down things.

“Oh no, I don’t do those. I hate painting myself,” He told Anders with a polite smile.

“But why? You’re very handsome, I think a painting of you would look wonderful,” He protested, leaning forward slightly.

“That’s quite nice of you, but I just don’t think I would want to paint a portrait of myself,” Hayden shrugged, letting out a small smile.

“Hayden! I’m sorry to disturb you, but Carver’s hurt! I need you right now!” Bethany rushed in, tears streaking down her face and her whole-body trembling.

“What happened?!” Hayden exclaimed, standing quickly.

“Someone apparently was making fun of our family, more specifically, you, and Carver got angry. The other templar recruit stabbed him,” Bethany’s words came out in a jumbled mess. 

Anders followed them, his eyebrows furrowed in worried. He knew Carver before, but as a grey warden. Spencer would have been super upset if his brother was a templar.

“I’m sorry, would you mind if we do this at another date? I have to help my siblings,” Hayden looked over at Anders, who was still following them through the Hawke estate. He knew the familiar surroundings, and he felt comfortable without even realizing it.

“I can help heal him, I’m a mage,” Anders said quickly.

Hayden paused, but Bethany grabbed his arm, “Let him help, I don’t know if your magic will be enough. And I’m awful at healing magic.”

Hayden stared at his sister skeptically, but nodded, jerking his head towards the room behind the stairs. Anders had only been in there once, it was an infirmary of sorts. Spencer sometimes helped with healing when he was alive.

Bethany practically flew through the door, her brother was writhing on the single bed in the room, gasping for breath. Blood was all over the sheets and on his hands. His armor had been removed, leaving him in a tunic and brown pants.

“Hold him down and we’ll try our hardest to heal him,” Anders told Bethany, going into his healing mode.

She nodded and went over to her brother, pinning his arms down on either side of him so he wouldn’t touch his wound. The stab wound was right between the plates of armor, the other templar knew exactly where to stab. Perhaps this wasn’t just a petty squabble.

Without a word, Anders began to pour his magic into the man, focusing on his stab wound. Hayden stood beside him, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Their hands were barely touching, fingertips brushing the top of Anders’ hands and sending small shivers up his spine.

They stood there for Maker knows how long, but Carver’s body began to relax and his breathing went back to normal. He was unconscious now, his face looked peaceful.

“I can’t feel much more damage. You two did amazing,” Bethany said with awe.

Anders felt extremely drained, staggering back slightly and trying to catch his breath. After a moment, someone lightly touched his shoulder. Anders looked up into blue eyes, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“Thank you so much for helping me. I don’t think I would have been able to heal him without you,” Hayden said, smiling.

“It’s no problem. I hope I wasn’t intruding,” Anders replied, straightening up.

“So, did you get to decide on what kind of painting you wanted?” Bethany directed her attention to a different subject, twisting her black hair in her hand.

“Well, no, not yet. But I’m hoping I will get to meet with him again,” Anders said, breaking into a smile.

Bethany gave him a suddenly troubled expression, before directing her attention to Hayden. The man gently shook his head with a shrug. Anders wasn’t really sure what he said, but apparently, he said something wrong.

“Would you mind if I came back?” Anders asked, his eyes almost pleading.

“Not at all, I would welcome company. You’re quite intriguing, Anders,” Hayden said with a sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

After that, it was a regular occurrence that Anders was at the Hawke Estate. His focus became getting a portrait of Hayden out of the painter. He wanted to know more about Hawke, he wanted Hawke. They got pretty close over a couple months, even Carver made a comment when he came over one day.

“Is there some kind of relationship going on between you that I don’t know about?”

That question made Anders a bit uneasy. He didn’t want to rush things, afraid to lose Hawke once again. It was hard to fall in love over and over, though it was technically the same person with a different body. Anders might even say that he just never stopped loving Hawke.

About four months later, in the dead of winter, Anders learned why Bethany and Hayden shared that look on the first day they met.

“I brought sandwiches,” Hayden came into the art room, setting a tray of cucumber sandwiches on the table in front of the fire. The room was pretty dark, except for a couple lanterns and the fireplace illuminating.

“Thank you,” Anders murmured, taking one and eating it. “You know what would go good with this?”

“Hm?”

“A self portrait of you,” Anders said with an amused tone.

“Har-har, you’re very hilarious, Anders,” Hawke sat down beside him and stared into the fire.

“What’re you thinking about?” Anders inquired after he had finished his sandwich.

“About when we first met. There’s something I never got to tell you,” Hayden murmured.

“Why didn’t you?” Anders questioned, looking at him with worried eyes.

“Because people do it all the time, I learned not to let customers get into my head. But now you’ve become a bit more than just a customer… so now, the only thing holding me back is… fear,” Hayden explained quietly.

Anders shifted his body so he was facing Hayden, his eyebrows furrowed, “You can tell me anything, I promise.”

Hawke nodded, but his eyes were still troubled, “You called me a ‘he’ and a ‘him’. But the truth is, I’m not any specific gender.”

Anders tilted his head and gave Hayden a confused look, “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I wish there was a term to use to call myself. When I was born, I was assigned a male gender. But, I don’t want to be male or female. I want to have a female hairstyle, wear men’s clothes, and not be ridiculed for it. I don’t want to conform to being ‘male’ or ‘female’. Do you understand?”

It took a moment, but Anders pretty much understood what Hawke was saying. Being in between genders, perhaps not even that. Just being a person, without the limitations of a gender. To wear women’s clothes and have masculine features, or the total opposite. 

“So, now that we’re friends, I thought it be best I bring up this. Because I want you to call me by the pronouns I prefer. They and them, if possible,” Hayden was using their gentle voice, but they were frowning.

Anders stared at them for a moment, before he nodded slowly. He broke out into a smile and lifted his hand to Hawke’s face, “You should know that what you want, who you are. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, nor something you have to hide from me. No matter what, I still see you as Hayden Hawke. A wonderful painter who is still too stubborn to do a self-portrait for me.” Anders wiped at the side of their eye, where tears were starting to form.

“It’s just, when Carver was stabbed, it was because the templar recruit was making fun of how I am. It made me worried that maybe people aren’t ready to accept someone like me, no matter how hard I try. I can’t cause pain for my family, or for you,” Hayden placed their hand over Anders’.

“Nothing you can say will chase me away, Hawke. I’m here for you, I promise,” He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, placing a chaste kiss on Hayden’s lips.

When Anders pulled back, Hayden was giving him a wide-eyed look, their mouth hanging open.

“What, you weren’t expecting me to kiss you? With the face you were making?” Anders gently grabbed their chin and wiggled it around.

“No, I—just wasn’t expecting you to feel the same way. I was startled, is all,” They mumbled, blush rising in Hawke’s cheeks and they looked anywhere but Anders’ face.

“Maker, I hope you react like that every time I kiss you, it’s adorable,” Anders let out a sigh, smiling over at them.

“Can we change the subject?” Hayden asked, completely flustered.

“So, how about that self-portrait?” 

The days after that were extremely peaceful. Most passed by in a blur, Anders was happy to be by his lover’s side. Hayden lived an extremely secluded artist life. There were no dangers to them, too much of Anders’ relief. Carver kept them updated on templar movements, Bethany had been recruited into the grey wardens after catching the blight on a deep roads expedition.

Hawke was a wreck when Bethany was taken away, relying on Anders to keep them on their feet. Anders was happy to oblige, making sure nothing happened to his lover. Years passed, more than Anders had ever had with Hawke. 

“You know, someday, we could marry,” Hayden said one day while doodling on a piece of papyrus.

Anders turned his head slightly from the couch he sat on, his eyebrows raised, “Marriage? I suppose we could. But I don’t think all your adoring female fans would approve. Many women have sent marriage proposal your way.”

“The only person I can picture spending the rest of my life with, is you, love,” They said, setting down whatever they were working on and moving towards the back of the couch.

Once they were close enough, Anders leaned his head over the back of the couch, looking up at Hayden from upside down. They smiled at him warmly, cupping his cheek. Hawke leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Anders’ lips.

“I love you,” Hayden pulled back, curling a piece of their wispy black hair behind their ear.

It was when Anders first noticed that his love was aging. He had never seen the signs in himself, he stopped aging after roughly 30. But now he could see it clearly when he looked at Hayden. Silver hair was dotting their usual black hair, and a few wrinkles had appeared around their nose.

Something Anders never accounted for when he was staying with Hayden, was that Hawke aged just like any other person. And though Anders had kept them safe enough the years he had been with them, he couldn’t stop the inevitable death that was coming. Anders cherished the years they stayed together, cherished Hayden Hawke. He didn’t want to lose someone else, the years just made it harder.

It was twenty years after they had met that Hayden finally succumbed to death.

It wasn’t a peaceful couple of weeks before. It was winter. Hayden had gone out one morning, and came back with an extreme fever. Anders didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong himself. He had to call them an actual doctor. 

The doctor explained that there was an outbreak of this new disease, one that didn’t have a name yet. ‘The old man's friend’ was what he called it. It caused the lungs to become inflamed, and was causing death all over England. Hawke wasn’t going to have long to live if they couldn’t fight it off.

So, Anders spent his days during those few weeks with Hawke, feeding them, helping them bathe. He was acutely aware of Hayden’s greying hair, the dullness in their once lively eyes. It was hard, for Anders at least, to see his love like this. 

One day, when Hawke was conscious enough, they called to Anders. He immediately came to their side, pulling up a chair and taking their hand in his.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” They rasped, staring at Anders.

“No, love. You’re fighting the sickness off, just like the doctor said. You’re going to be fine soon,” Anders kissed Hayden’s hand, fighting back the sob threatening to break out.

“I want to give you this, before I die. Please, look at it when you have a chance,” Hayden pushed a piece of paper to Anders. He took it gently, salty tears streaming down his face now. He shoved the paper in his pocket, promising to save it for later.

“Don’t cry, love,” Hayden reached a trembling hand up and cupped his cheek, using their thumb to wipe the tears sliding down Anders’ face. He leaned into their touch, his bottom lip trembling as much as Hawke’s hand.

After a couple aching moments of silence, Hayden gave Anders one of their signature warm smiles, “I know, you know.”

“Know what?”

“That you don’t age, that you sought me out specifically because we’re destined to be together.” Hayden coughed violently.

“How could you-“

“My memories are coming back. I can remember my past lives, love. Spencer, Garr,” They broke into another smile, “I know you’ve been looking out for me, finding me no matter what. You’ve loved me no matter who I was. And I love you, no matter what happens.”

Anders let his sob loose, bowing his head so he could feel Hayden’s clammy, cool hand on his face one more time. He clutched the sheets in his other hand, weeping.

"It's going to be alright, love. We'll find each other again. We always do, don't we? I know I won't remember you, but someday... someday I might. And someday... I won't have to leave,” Hayden murmured that softly, petting Anders’ golden locks.

“I don’t want to lose you again!” Anders cried out, breaking down into more tears.

He looked up at Hawke, who had gone silent. Hayden was smiling, a warm, tender smile reserved for only the people they loved. Their eyes drooped, the hand that was squeezing Anders’ went limp. 

Hawke fell asleep and never woke up.

Anders had to be the one to let both Carver and Bethany know. Carver was home first, he became an awful mess. Devastated, Carver delved into his templar duties far away from Anders.

Bethany didn’t come home. Though she wrote a letter back, tears staining the ink and making it hard to read. The gray wardens were a lifetime commitment.

After Hawke’s burial, Anders took out the note from his pocket. He had been afraid to look at it, but he wanted to know what Hayden had written.

Inside was simple two-step directions. Go to the Hawke Estate, open the first door on the left. Anders did just that, entering the empty estate in a rush.

He swung open the door to the dusty room. It used to be the parlor once upon a time. The furniture from Spencer Hawke was still there, collecting dust. But sitting on one of the couches, in the middle of everything, was a portrait.

It was done by a delicate hand, Anders knew it was painted by Hayden immediately. It was of Spencer. The detail of it was striking.

As Anders stood there, tears flowing down his face once more, he wondered how Hayden knew what their past reincarnation looked like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be taking anymore Hawkes! Thank you so much for all the wonderful Hawke submissions! I got a lot more than I was expecting and I can't wait to write them all!


	4. Marian Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, I got two chapters posted in one night? Yeah, well, I may or may not have mixed up a couple time lines.
> 
> This is Pikestaff's Hawke! Go check out their tumblr! [ Woop! ](http://pikestaff.tumblr.com/)

### 

Chapter Three: Marian Hawke

After what had happened with Garr, and then with Hayden, Anders was always on the look-out. Hawke was out there somewhere, Hayden Hawke proved that theory. 

He fretted that maybe he would never find another Hawke. He had spent over 100 years without Spencer before he found Garr, could he really wait that long for Hawke to come back to him? Eternity was too long to be alone without love. Anders couldn’t remember the last time he saw one of his friends, well, his immortal friends at least.

Now, they would probably call him foolish for falling in love with someone who had such a short lifespan. It had only been around 70 years since Garr died, probably a whopping 200 years since Spencer died. And only around 20 something years since Hayden passed away. The years always blurred together.

On instinct, Anders had returned to England, but one day in his small cottage in the middle of nowhere, he felt the urge to go to Paris. It was a sudden, gut feeling that made his heart clench. Perhaps a hint to where Hawke was, or maybe something worse?

Anders packed up what little belongings he had, petting the few stray cats outside his home before leaving. He wasn’t sure if he’d be back, the cottage felt awful to live in anymore. Some of Spencer’s items were still in the house, untouched from where he left them. The only thing Anders took from his possession was something Spencer gave him himself. It was simple, a hand sewn red handkerchief that his sister had made for him. Anders personally liked to wrap it around his bicep now, having no need for a red hankie. He also had the pin Isabela had handed him after Garr had died. And then, the portrait of Spencer was hanging in the cottage, over the fireplace. A bitter reminder of what Anders once had. He took that along too, though it was a bit hard to take. He ended up visited an old friend and asking them to keep it for him, knowing they would never leave their home.

He didn’t care what the guard wanted to do with his house after he left, he owned it, of course. But usually everyone assumed it was abandoned, he’s had quite a few kids try to get in only to be scared by him.

Anders went to Paris, which was rebuilding after the rebellion that had happened a mere 10 years before. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he had heard rumors that America had sent over some kind of ‘gift’ to the French in the architecture category. Anders was curious about what the Eiffel Tower was, and planned on looking at it during his trip.

Once in Paris, Anders was quick to head to the nearest tavern, to get a scope on how the people of France were feeling. The bar was lively, as every tavern usually was. Bar fights, women getting hit on and people drunk off their arses.

“Anders?” He heard a familiar voice as he was downing a pint, and he instantly tensed up. He wheeled around, eyes narrowed as he searched the crowd. Realizing who was talking, he looked down with a small snort and came face-to-face with Varric.

“Ah, long time no see, Varric. You’re in Paris?”

“I came to help the relief effort. I’m not much of a builder like other dwarfs, but I can sure keep the carta from snooping in others business while Paris rebuilds,” Varric sniffed and hopped up on one of the bar stools next to Anders and ordered a shot of whiskey.

“You’re looking quite good since the last time I saw you. Are you using some kind of anti-aging potion?” Anders questioned while finishing off his drink.

“That’s really funny, glad you still have that annoying sense of humor,” Varric stated, smiling wide enough to show off his canines. “So where have you been hiding for the past 200 years? Seems like I haven’t seen you since I snuck out Hawke’s sister all those years ago. Remember Spencer?”

“Varric,” Anders warned, gritting his teeth.

“Still fresh? Ok, I’ll stop prodding, but you should know something about Hawke, Anders,” Varric leaned towards him, ducking his head slightly, “Something weird is going on with the Hawke timeline. Reincarnation isn’t something I usually consider, but now…I consider it.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I already figured it out,” Anders replied bitterly, gulping down his second pint of beer.

“Well, I’ve been investigating, and I’ve been finding Hawke throughout their different lifespans. So far I’ve found about 5 throughout the 200 years we’ve been apart.”

“Five?!” Anders choked on his alcohol, coughing violently.

“Well, Spencer for one, then Garrett, Garr, Hayden, and Marian,” Varric listed them off, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you telling me I missed Hawke in between Spencer and Garr?”

“Garrett Hawke, I sought him out accidentally when he was asking my brother for work. Had no idea he was some kind of reincarnation until I met his mother and his siblings,” Varric explained, casting a sideways glance towards some tables nonchalantly.

“Pressing matters in the tavern tonight, Varric?” Anders caught his stare, peering over at where Varric was looking.

“Just some negotiations with the carta, usual stuff. Got my best on them right now,” Varric said with his smooth voice.

Anders narrowed his eyes, “You’re hiding something.”

“Well, I…look, Anders, I don’t want you to get upset-“

A couple yells rang out in the bar, before a full-out brawl started where Varric was looking moments ago. Anders stood up, trying to look in the fight. It was a bunch of rough looking dwarves, probably carta, and a couple humans. Well, there was an elf in there that Anders knew as well, which probably wasn’t a good sign. A harsh blue light enveloped the corner and Anders shielded his eyes with a roll of his eyes.

“Whoa, whoa! Cool it broody! We can solve this peacefully! Rivani, put down that dagger!” Varric pointed at someone who looked suspiciously like Isabela.

“Hawke! Let the nice carta man go,” Varric turned his attention to a woman dressed in dirty clothes with short brown hair.

She ‘tsk’ed and removed her arm from around the dwarf’s neck, “You’re lucky Varric saved you hide.”

“Here’s some money, now can you please leave us for now?” Varric offered a few gold coins to the dwarf. The carta swarmed out, leaving the tavern to go back to the usual mood.

“Hawke?” Anders choked out, his eyes wide as he looked between the woman and Varric.

“I said not to get upset,” Varric offered.

“It is clearly too much for the mage to handle, perhaps we should talk in private,” The elf next to Hawke growled.

For once, Anders had to agree with Fenris.

~  
Varric got a couple tavern rooms for the night, offering the second one up to Isabela and Hawke. Hawke happily accepted while Isabela refused, stating she had a ship to get back too.

Once alone, all Anders could do was fall on the bed and put his face in his hands.

“What’s going on, Varric?” Anders whimpered.

“I’ve been using my contacts to keep tabs on when a Hawke shows up again. Fenris, is of course, one of them,” Varric explained.

Fenris had sat down in one of the old wooden chairs, scowling at Anders, before moving his scowl to Varric.

“It really isn’t hard to find Hawke, especially that aggressive one, Garr, I think? But Marian was a bit more tricky,” Fenris grumbled.

“But why? What is in this for you, and for you Fenris?” Anders directed his attention towards the elf.

“I owe Varric a few favors, and sometimes an immortal life can be boring. I don’t mind searching for a Hawke every 30 or so years,” Fenris replied.

“I agree, sort of. But Hawke is a good friend, no matter which reincarnation it is.”

“So, you’re doing it for… friendship,” Anders concluded.

“You cannot judge, mage. You’re seeking out Hawke for companionship,” Fenris snapped.

“Because I love Hawke! You don’t even know what that means,” Anders spat, clenching his fist.

“Well then, why don’t you go talk to her then? She probably has wounds that need healing,” Varric offered, apparently trying to ease the hostility Anders and Fenris harbored towards one another.

"It's strange to think Spencer and Garr are somewhere inside Marian. I can't picture Hawke as a woman," Anders mumbled.

"It's reincarnation, Anders. It's a divine power that can do whatever the hell it wants," Varric responded.

Anders nodded, getting up stiffly. He tossed a dirty look to Fenris as he left, heading to the room next door. He knocked once.

The door opened slightly and a woman with dark brown hair poked her head out. She had gorgeous hazel eyes that pierced through Anders, sending a small shiver through his body. This was Hawke. He hadn’t met a female Hawke yet, and he was a bit bewildered at the thought of Spencer Hawke, Garr Hawke, reincarnated into a female form.

Though, this Hawke still had muscles and looked tom-boyish in her own way. Anders gulped as she tilted her head and opened the door wider.

“Who are you?” She questioned.

“Oh, I’m Anders. I’m a friend of Varric’s,” Anders swallowed hard and forced a smile.

She eyed him for a moment, before she threw open the door and went back inside. Anders stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her.

“Well, are you gonna come in or are you just going to stand their staring at my ass all day?” She teased.

“That’s not, I wasn’t-“

“I was only joking, Anders,” She plopped down in one of the chairs and let out a sigh, “Sorry, I’ll have better jokes in the morning. It’s been a long fucking day.”

“Yeah, I saw that fight. Do you need any wounds healed?”

“I’ll say anything to keep you here a bit longer,” She told him with her silky voice.

“You should probably get some rest though, so I’ll make this quick,” Anders pulled up a stool and sat in front of her.

“I could probably heal this myself, I am a mage after all, but it’s so much work,” She groaned, pushing her bruised knuckles towards Anders.

Anders snorted and hovered his hands over hers, the magic flowing through his fingertips and connecting with hers. Her bloody knuckles began to meld back, the bruises disappearing.

He could feel her stare on his face, her hazel eyes searching for something. He didn’t really understand it, maybe she felt a connection like Garr did? Or even remember him like Hayden did before they died?

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have we gotten into a fight? You aren’t the guy I kicked in the shin, are you?”

“No, we haven’t met. Varric sent me a letter to tell me where he was. I was just stopping by on my travels to meet up with him,” Anders lied, pulling his hands back like he’d been stung.

“You travel? That sounds like the life. Not having to abide by laws, going where ever you want, eating decent food,” Marian let out a wistful sigh.

“It’s not the best life, but it can be fun sometimes,” Anders admitted, shrugging noncommittally.

“Perhaps I could travel with you, then? You seem like a decent lot, and I know Varric and Fenris plan on moving out soon. Maybe we could travel all together?”

“I usually don’t travel with them, I’m better off alone,” Anders stood up abruptly, not wanting to talk about this anymore. He couldn’t let himself be dragged down by Hawke anymore, though he wanted to stay with his lover forever, the thought of another heartbreak or a death caused by him made him queasy.

“Oh, I love the sexy tortured look you have on your face. Please tell me more, baby,” She flirted, smiling with her teeth.

Anders couldn’t help but let out a smile, “You’re quite persistent, aren’t you?”

“Only when I want something,” She responded innocently.

Anders turned away from her, swallowing hard. He could walk out now without a word, go back to America, and stop searching for Hawke. If he did, maybe Marian Hawke could have a simple life.

“Well then, I guess we’re traveling companions now. We’re leaving tomorrow then,” Anders said, looking over his shoulder at her once, before leaving her room.

“Ok. I’ll be here, doing whatever illegal apostates due in their spare time,” She called after him.

After that, Varric, Fenris, and Marian Hawke became Anders’ traveling companions. Where ever he went, they were sure to follow. Though, it was usually Marian who led them. It seemed she’s liked to take charge. But she wasn’t like Garr, who was aggressive. She reminded Anders more of Spencer, who was witty and charming. Though she had her tender moments, which reminded him of how Hayden was.

He knew he was falling for her, just like he did with all the Hawkes he met. They spent a few years traveling together, getting closer to one another. They were actually in the frostback mountains, in the dead of night, when they became lovers.

“Varric sleeps like a log,” Hawke snorted, glancing across the camp at the tent where Fenris and Varric where asleep. The heavy sound of Varric’s rhythmic snoring reverberated through the clearing.

“He could probably scare off any predators with that snores of his,” Anders agreed.

“Sounds like a herd of overweight halla,” Hawke retorted with a quiet laugh.

They sat in silence by the dying fire, Marian’s greenish hazel eyes danced with the flames.

“Do you ever regret bringing us along?” Hawke asked out of the blue.

Anders swiveled his head towards her, his eyebrows knitted in confusion, “Regret? Never, I love having you, Fenris, and Varric along with me.”

“But me more specifically, right?”

“Yes, definitely you the most,” Anders grinned over at her.

Hawke, for the first time, blushed. She looked up at him and cleared her throat, “Look, Anders. I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but can you kiss me already?”

Anders, taken aback, stared at her with his mouth wide open. She let out an irritated sigh at his face and stomped over. She bent down and pressed her freezing lips to his. 

“There, how was that? Pretty good, right?” Hawke asked after she had pulled back.

“I don’t know, I’d have to have a couple more to be sure,” Anders responded after a moment.

Marian let out a small laugh, pinching his cheek, “You’re quite the cheeky bugger, aren’t ya?”

“Hey, you were the one coming onto me. Thought I’d return the favor,” Anders pecked her lips a couple more times.

“Oh, trust me, I’m enjoying this very much,” She ran her hands down his torso, deepening their kiss.

“Come to my tent with me?” Anders mumbled after a couple moments.

“Eager, are we?”

Marian Hawke took his hand and led him back to his tent, the passion from the kisses fueling his brain. He hadn’t been with a woman in quite a while, he was impressed he still knew what to do. The cold nipped at his body once his clothes were removed, but neither of them seemed to care. With Hawke spread out on the fur blankets Anders used on cold nights, it was enough to make any man, especially Anders, aroused.

“Maker, you’re gorgeous,” Anders breathed into her ear, his breath white from the cold.

“Now you’re just trying to butter me up.”

Marian dug her nails into his back, cracking a joke every once in a while before Anders hit a sweet spot. Hearing her voice call out his name in her lustful haze was enough to send pleasant shivers down Anders’ spine. He missed Hawke so much, he would never stop loving Hawke, no matter what they looked like, who they were. This was enough, Marian Hawke was enough. Spencer Hawke was enough. Hayden Hawke was enough.

He could feel Marian panting in his ear, the sweat was gleaming on her skin, and on his, making them slick to the touch. It was below zero outside, but in their own little world, it felt scorching.

“Don’t leave me ever, Anders,” Hawke ground out, her hand grasping the back of his neck so she could kiss him.

“I won’t, I won’t love,” Anders gasped back, before the waves of ecstasy took him out.

Afterwards, Marian went to her tent to grab a few things, settling in beside him with a book and a lantern. She had on a night shirt and nothing else, and her legs looked sexy as hell spread over his cot.

“Something caught your eye?” She teased, catching his gaze on her legs.

“Hm? Oh, sorry. I wasn’t staring,” Anders said quickly, turning his stare away so he was looking at the tent entrance. “I didn’t know you liked reading.”

Marian tilted her head, looking up at him with a confused expression, “Yeah, I love reading. If I’m not knocking some heads together, I’m in my tent reading a good book.”

“Sounds like you,” Anders replied, smiling back at her.

“I know, right? When I die, bards will sing of my fierce punch and my love of all things written, especially naughty novels.”

Anders wanted to laugh at her joke, but the word ‘die’ stuck out to him, and for some reason he felt upset and tired all at the same time. Marian Hawke was going to die one day, and then Anders would have to wander the earth once again in search of Hawke. And no matter how many times he told himself that he shouldn’t, he would always search. 

“I love you, Marian Hawke. I was holding back from saying that, but I want to be with you. Forever.”

“I love you too, Anders. Nothing will keep you from me,” Hawke quickly got on her knees, her book discarded, and hugged him tightly, nuzzling his neck.

“Now this time, how about we try to wake up the whole camp? I’d love to see Fenris’ face in the morning.”

It was during the spring, such a beautiful season, when Hawke passed. They had been traveling together for five months after they got together. They had passed through many countries, but they decided to board a ship to England. Sometime was definitely making Hawke nervous though, but she wouldn’t say why.

“Ah, 1889. What a time to be alive, hm?” Varric approached Anders who was looking out towards approaching England.

“I suppose. Hey, did Marian tell you anything about why she wanted to come to England? She’s been very tense since we got on the ship.”

“No, nothing. But I did notice she was upset about something. She’s refrained from wise cracking this whole boat ride.”

Anders nervously looked back towards Hawke, who was pacing around the ship. Fenris was also watching her, his eyes worried. They had all become close friends on their two-and-a-half-year journey. If it weren’t for Hawke, Anders would personally not be with Fenris. Too much history with him and Varric alike.

“Ship’s docking! Prepare to get off!” The captain shouted from the wheel.

Once they were docked, Marian practically flew off the boat, they all had to run to catch up with her.

“Hawke! Marian, slow down! What’s wrong, love?” Anders caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

She turned to him, her eyes frightened and it personally made Anders panicked. He let her arm go and enveloped her in a hug, “Tell me, so we can help.”

“It’s my sister. She’s been sending me letters, and I think she’s going to do something stupid.”

“Like what?”

And like a response in itself, there was an explosion. Both of them turned towards it, before Marian grabbed his hand and yanked him forward.

“That’s got to be Bethany! She did something! I swear to the Maker if she’s gone and killed herself I’m going to kill her!”

They had just left the gallows, and were heading up the winding side alleys of Kirkwall towards the Chantry. Anders could see flames licking up a couple buildings in the clearing in front of the Chantry.

“Bethany! BETHANY!” Marian screamed at the top of her lungs, letting go of Anders’ hand as they approached a large group of women that seemed to be protesting.

“What in Andraste’s name-“ He was cut off as a couple women gave him disgusted looks.

Anders backed up a few paces, searching the sea of women for the familiar bob of brown hair. He couldn’t seem to find her though, and he could feel his heart clenching.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Can I ask you what’s going on?” Anders tapped an older woman’s shoulder.

She turned to him, baring her teeth, “It’s a protest for women’s suffrage. More importantly for mage women suffrage. We suffer more than normal women. We deserve the right to work and vote! We will not be locked up in a circle anymore!”

Anders nodded, “Yes, you’re right. No one deserves to be locked in the circle. But violence isn’t the answer. You’ve set innocent people’s houses on fire. What did they do to you?”

“Anders! Mage, where are you?!” He heard Fenris’ voice coming up to him, and he turned to him.

“I’m here, I’m fine. But have you seen Hawke?”

Fenris’ eyes went wide and he pointed the front of the Chantry.

Anders followed his finger and his amber eyes widened as he took in Bethany and Marian’s form. They looked amazing, standing up by the Andraste statue, using force magic to knock the golden form down.

“No more circle! We have rights as women and as mages!” Bethany howled, hurling her shoulder against the statue with force magic. It groaned in response, teetering towards the edge.

“Women mage rights or women mages fight!” Hawke hollered, earning whoops from the crowd.

Finally, with one last push, the large statue gave out, coming crashing to the ground with a hollow metallic thud that reverberated throughout the clearing.

There was a moment of almost peaceful silence, before all hell broke loose. Templars began streaming into the clearing, turning everything into chaos. Anders, of course, felt a sense of dread, his mind going back to when Spencer died. He hurled himself into the crowd of mages fighting against templars. He shoved his way through, his breath heavy as he scanned the crowd for any sign of Marian.

“Marian! Where are you?!” Anders shrieked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Anders! I’m over here!” Hawke broke through the crowd. She was grinning wildly, her hand on her hip triumphantly. She rushed over to him and gave him a huge hug.

“We should probably get out of here before we get caught!” Anders yelled over the chaos, dodging a templar who was trying to make a grab at him.

“Varric already got Bethany out of here. I’m worried about all these women mages, but they knew what they were doing when they came to protest. I can’t protect them. And technically, I was never here to protest.” Hawke shrugged with a smile.

“We can plan an escape route for them another time. Now it’s best we go far from here!” Anders took her hand and together they made their escape.

Fenris was waiting for them at the stairs, leading them out to the forest on the outskirts of Kirkwall. They went into the comfort of the trees, Anders relaxing the farther they got.

“Can we… stop for a moment. I need to—catch my breath,” Marian called from the back.

Anders turned to her, about to crack a joke, but his heart dropped. Hawke had gone down to one knee, her breath extremely wheezy. She let out a painful gasp.

“Marian! What’s wrong?” Anders rushed over, kneeling beside her and catching her as she fell back.

“It’s nothing,” She weakly pushed Anders’ prying hands away from her. 

Anders cradled her head in his lap while he searched her body for wounds. He made out a large, dark splotch on the left side of her stomach. He lifted her tunic and gasped loudly.

“What? What is it?!” Fenris demanded, the worriedness in his voice shaking up Anders even more.

“You’ve been stabbed, Hawke!”

“Oh, was I? I didn’t even notice,” She joked weakly, her eyes starting to lose their beautiful color.

“You’ve lost so much blood; how did you not notice?!” Anders pressed his cold hands to her wound, her warm blood gushing over his hands as he tried to pulse his healing magic into her.

“I might’ve been stabbed by a protester who thought I was a templar. She apologized afterwards,” Hawke explained lightly, her face becoming pale and waxy.

“Marian, you’re such an idiot! Why didn’t you say anything as we were leaving! It might be too…” Anders pursed his lips so the sob welling in his throat would stay down, “It might be too _late_.”

“What are you talking about, mage?! Use your magic to heal her!” Fenris snarled from next to him.

“I can’t!” Anders snapped to him, “She’s lost too much blood, and the wound is too deep!”

“Then what is magic worth if it can’t save a life?!” Fenris snapped back, his voice tinged with despair.

“Guys, please, could you be nice while I’m on my deathbed?” Hawke murmured, blinking her eyes sleepily.

“No, no. Stay with me! You can’t die, not again, not now Marian Hawke. Not like this!” Anders pressed his bloody hands to her face, shaking her gently.

“I can’t stay awake, Anders. I’m so tired. It feels like I haven’t gotten sleep for months. So heavy….” She lifted her arm, before letting it fall with a thud.

“Don’t leave me, please,” Anders begged, tears falling down his face.

“I love you, Anders. Don’t really think I said it enough. So, I hope this is enough. I love you.”

“I love you too, love. That’s why you need to keep fighting. If I can just get you back to Kirkwall-“

The light faded fully from her eyes, her small smile disappearing from her face. Her whole body went limp in Anders’ grasp. He sobbed over her body, holding her close to him.

Fenris had to practically drag him back to camp, begrudgingly promising to come back to bury her body. Once they met up with Bethany and Varric, Anders had to explain what happened to her sister and to Varric. Bethany was heartbroken, covering her mouth with her hand as she walked away. Her sobs rang out through the forest.

“Life is so fragile, isn’t it?” Varric murmured.


End file.
